


Thick as Thieves

by awbeans



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls III
Genre: Anal Sex, Business Associates to Lovers... to Friends, Formerly a One-Shot But Then I Wrote More, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex, canon-typical sadness, dirty talk I guess, two crusty rogues fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-02-28 21:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13280427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awbeans/pseuds/awbeans
Summary: Following his release from a windowless cell in the High Wall, Greirat the Thief reunites with a colleague.(...Now with a second chapter to bring my friends what they really wanted: more detailed sex scenes.)





	1. Chapter 1

 

When Greirat next saw him, it left him lightheaded with relief. There was no knowing what was going on outside the walls of Lothric dungeon, and hardly anything inside to mark time's passage, beyond his own confused tally marks and that time he gradually carved that single stone loose from the wall. A few more loose stones, or so he planned, and there would be a gap wide enough for a skinny little rat of a man to vanish into thin air. He kept himself going with the thought of playing the heroic rogue once more. Greirat the Thief, with the wind on his side, who worked for the sake of the weak and the poor, and whom no dungeon could hold!

In truth, he spent most of his time helplessly wondering what was happening beyond the High Wall. He drew plans in the dust to ease his restlessness and avoid the thought that he was no help to anyone at all, imprisoned and collared and washed-up, far away from Loretta and the settlement and everything else he was so willing to martyr himself for.

Though in his heart he already suspected the worst, he'd still hoped beyond hope; that the impoverished settlers were well, that Loretta was still clinging to life as obstinately as ever, that Unbreakable Patches had taken the time he'd bought him and escaped. And, well, once that kindly Ashen One had freed him-- well, the news all caught up to him in the end. Too little too late, wasn't that always how it went? What a fool he was, for even imagining anything else. But at least among the rot there eventually emerged that small glimmer of light, the suggestion that not all his efforts had been for naught. As disreputable of an associate as Patches was, Greirat felt the need to thank him, for simply staying intact when nothing else did.

So as soon as nobody else was looking, Greirat went for it, slinking around in shadows through old habit, and sought him out in that distant edge of the shrine where he hid. The walls were smooth under his fingers, worn down by the crushing weight of time and purpose around this place. He slid around the corner.  
"Ah-- hello!"  
Patches yelped in surprise, before slowly lowering his weapon as Greirat took his hood off and waved enthusiastically at him. Though he seemed just a little more weary, there was the man he remembered, pale with sharp eyes and a laugh that shook his whole body. Greirat ran forward and embraced him just to reassure himself that he was still there. Solid and sturdy, and smelling of leather. Still giddy and running on impulse, he leaned up on the tips of his toes, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Patches turned red and stammered loudly, and clung to him in return, as avariciously as any mimic. Greirat snickered into his shoulder, and elected to see how much further he could prod him.  
And so, Greirat wound up pinned against the wall, half-naked and stuttering his praises, as he enjoyed a hot wet mouth between his legs for the first time in an eternity. Patches had been impishly delighted to discover the sensitive skin at Greirat's waist and behind his knees, and he dug his calloused fingers in as he worked, to make his good friend whimper all the more in his grasp.

\--

In the following weeks, Greirat the Thief kept himself busy with the exercise of his craft, trying to stave off his recurring bouts of despair with efforts to enrich the other shrine-dwellers' lives. He liked Ludleth of Courland, and tried to ease his solemn duty by giving him a small but earnest gift-- a seat-cushion. For Cornyx, he found a fine skinning knife with a handle carved from a piece of antler. To the firekeeper, he gifted some lighthearted reading in braille ("The Tardy Champion and Other Popular Comedic Plays", which he hadn't read but heard good reviews of, long ago). Orbeck received a gold-trimmed stationery set with the ink still dark and unclotted, though he didn’t look up from his reading, so Greirat left it on the ground and scurried away.  
It seemed to him that Irina would like company. And so, "I th- I think you and Irina of Carim could be friends," he told the shrine blacksmith. For the Ashen One, he went searching for arrows, as many arrows as he could carry, as many as it would take to keep them safe and out of harm's way. And Greirat hadn't found anything yet that could please Hawkwood, but he intended to keep trying, just in case Hawkwood ever came back.

\--

"Thank the heavens," Greirat was saying. "I'm glad to see you still about and kicking, s-so to speak."  
Patches snorted. "Ey, I'm not the one who had to get rescued from a sewer."  
"Hee hee hee."  
"What?"  
"Ah, I was wondering when you'd show your hand. B-but tell me again about the wondrous festivals of Catarina, O brave onion knight. Sweep me into your arms, a-and- and feed me soup!"  
"Unbelievable--"  
"And do the voice!"  
"L-listen mate, how about instead we never speak of that again, eh?"  
"Hehee."  
"Anyhow, I've still got some of this Siegbrau stuff that-- fell off the back of a wagon, so-- what do you say to a little toast?"

Nonetheless, Greirat was still thinking about it later that evening, as he gave Patches a slow smile and climbed into his lapp. He had to marvel at how Unbreakable Patches, of all people, came to his aid without expectation of reward. Maybe this was a new side of him, or an old one rarely revealed. He certainly couldn't help but notice the way Patches froze for a moment, when he discovered the scars that the thrall hood left on Greirat's neck. Or the way Patches asked, through heavy breathing and a bad disguise of nonchalance, whether their position was hard on Greirat's aging knees. Patches was an absolutely dreadful actor. Although that too was rather endearing.

A lucky case of honor among thieves, Greirat decided with a satisfied chuckle, which turned into a gasp as Patches reached down to stroke him. His hand was large and rough, slick with saliva and skilled at handling a spear.

Soon Greirat moved closer to better straddle his thighs, close enough to grind up against him and press the whole of their bodies together. He hadn't realized until now, just now hungry he was to be held. And now Patches was pressing both their cocks together, enclosing them in his hand and stroking them in tandem. Greirat shivered. Patches tangled his other hand in Greirat's thinning hair, turning his head to squarely face him as they fucked.

Greirat clutched at Patches' shoulders, and tried to speak, but his old stutter and the pleasure wracking his body kept him from words. Instead he leaned that tiny distance forward, and kissed him deeply, trying to express all his gratitude and his recent, hesitant hope.

So maybe this was the new shape of things, Greirat figured. Maybe these were his people now, and maybe he'd even forgive himself in the end. But first, he had a lot of work to do. When he finally had to part, he left nothing behind but a note.

"I'll be back. I'm going out to pillage, so it might be some time, but I made a promise to myself that I'd prove my worth. I intend to bring you something nice too, so stay safe."

And he was gone.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the continuation I ended up writing, in which this fic veers away from the canon ending to G-Rat's questline, and then there's just a lot of words about two crusty rogues fucking. bon appétit

The bones of the world were being picked clean. Nothing left to do except get a little bolder. But even the rooftops of the Lothric archives were less quiet than Greirat expected. He'd walked right into an absolute mess of a situation yet again, but what sort of thief would he be, if he couldn't snatch some form of victory out of these jaws? Massive fire-spewing living gargoyles were obstacles to be outwitted like any other, he figured, and besides, this was still probably better than sitting alone at his little shop, drowning in his thoughts. Loretta's old bone flute still weighed heavily in his pack, though it was an almost comforting presence now. Perhaps with bent knees and a little cleverness, taking some unexpected paths, he could try--

And then his foot slipped, just a little, and hit a stray roof tile, making the tiniest clacking noise. Enough to turn the attention of a hulking creature of flame and stone. They locked eyes for a moment, and Greirat ran. He abandoned all pretense of stealth or tactics, and ran. He didn't need to look behind him to feel the heat and violent shock of it drawing closer, wild swings missing him by a hair and slamming down just behind his feet. He stumbled again, jumped hastily down to the next ledge, and completely botched the landing. So this is it, he thought wildly as he crumpled. Winded and knocked prone as some stone beast raised its arm to smear him across a rooftop. So it ends. Cold piss.

Greirat struggled to get up. At the edge of his vision, he thought he saw some familiar shapes. He struggled to get up faster. He saw the flash of a spear for leverage and a hard shove, and then he heard familiar unbridled laughter as the gargoyle tumbled off the ledge and disappeared, plummeting toward the ground far, far below.

The sound of boots on stone tiles, and Unbreakable Patches crouched down beside him, proudly cocking his head toward the scene of his handiwork.

"Looks like we're even, bruv."

Greirat blinked, and slowly unfurled himself from where he'd reflexively curled up into a little ball. "Y-you... here? You didn't-- didn't have to." He sat up, took his hood off, breathed in and out. "Not for a petty rat like me."

"Listen, we're petty rats both, and we need to look out for each other." Patches looked around, fell silent, and then almost immediately seemed uncomfortable with the silence. "Just between you and me," he added, "I don't trust any of those other bastards." Forced laughter. "You know what I mean? You're the only one that...." Noncommital arm gesture.

"Th... thank you, truly."

"Oh, no need. What's a favor between friends?" Patches held out his hand, which Greirat took gratefully, and hoisted them both to their feet. "Now let's get out of this wretched place, and put all this behind us."

"All of it?" asked Greirat, who was already making plans to contemplate the incident in great detail later.

"Well, I did pass up a few storerooms earlier, if you'd like to double back. Restock our wares, rest, have a celebratory fuck-- what do you say?"

"Ah, you handsome scoundrel. M-meet me later at the usual time and place, and I'll thank you carnally in a proper way. We could lay down some bedding and take our sweet time, and I'll... I'll bring some oils."

"Oh."

"Heheheh." Greirat was still leaning against Patches for support, but he managed to nudge him conspiratorially. "You know, I'm almost beginning to think that you're going soft."

"I just think you're alright, is all!"

Greirat smiled up at him and Patches went pink, all the way to his ears.

\--

For all his talk, Patches stared like an astonished virgin when it came down to it. He fretted nervously like he was unaccustomed to being kissed and touched, slowly and gently, by a sentimental lover.

"It's not a damn porcelain vase," Patches groused. "I'm not gonna break."

Greirat gave the unbreakable Patches one last stroke, and patted him encouragingly on the hip. "You prepare me, then."

"Alright. Move your leg." Patches rolled over and leaned in, and Greirat's entire body shuddered at the sensation of a slick fingertip tracing against his entrance. "You're too nice, is the problem," Patches said suddenly, his fingers continuing to tease and probe at every bit of sensitive flesh. "There's no room for that in this miserable world, Greirat. Look at the state of things! Show any generosity, and people'll just take advantage of you."

He pried his thighs wider apart, pinned him open. "They'll milk you dry, and when they're finally standing over your corpse... the only thing those rotten snakes will mourn... is that you've nothing else... for them to take--! ...Mm, you've got such a tight little arse. Were you saving it for me?"

Greirat let his head fall back, and yielded to the intrusion with a thick moan.

"Don't cover your mouth, sweeting. I like hearing you cry out for me."

"Mhm."

"...So, I didn't understand it at first. I didn't understand where you'd gone or why, what you were doing, until I asked the greedy scum myself. Don't you risk your own neck for people like that," Patches said, beginning to work a second finger inside. "I'll be the first to admit, I..." His brow was furrowed and he was panting as though he were the one being pierced. It sent a twinge directly through Greirat's heart.

"It's... it's alright, friend," Greirat said. "I'm all safe and sound now. Don't you worry about me, I-- ahh-- I don't die so easily."

"Fu-- You almost did. Twice! You wouldn't believe the lengths I've gone to--"

"Well, g...good thing I have you, eh?"

"...Yeah."

Greirat motioned for Patches to come yet closer. He thrilled in anticipation, at the feeling of fingers withdrawing to be replaced by the warm head of a cock. "There you go," Greirat whispered in his lilting voice. "Come t-take me, feel me around you. It's alright, you see? ...Pin me down-- good lad--" He could feel Patches pressing forward, steady and firm against his entrance, until all at once it began to slip inside. Patches's cock was not especially large, but the sensation of it slowly impaling him was so strange and intense that it overwhelmed all else. "Oh, h-heavens..."

Patches muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "...adorable." And then he began to move, each thrust working him a bit deeper inside. Soon his every breath was a sigh of pleasure and Greirat held him appreciatively, clutching at him whenever a movement felt particularly nice, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes like a sappy bastard who could momentarily forget that his world was ending.

"Hn-- harder, p-please..."

"Now you're getting greedy too, aren't you?" Patches said with a hungry grin, as he began to pound him in earnest. Greirat whimpered incoherently in approval, touching himself as he let his tired body take what it needed. It wasn't long before he felt the tension rising inside him. A few more breathless moments and he came, writhing against his relentless pounding, dripping onto himself. Flustered and open-mouthed, Patches soon went over the edge as well, choking on his own groans as he found his own release deep inside.

When their excitement finally stilled, Greirat reached up and kissed Patches lightly once more. "...T-thank you again, for everything."

"Finally, a little recognition around here." 

"I mean it."

"Oh, I know. Anything for you, you... mad old soft bastard."


End file.
